


When You're Not Strong

by fallenangel218



Category: NCIS
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-22
Updated: 2014-11-26
Packaged: 2018-01-20 10:43:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1507583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fallenangel218/pseuds/fallenangel218
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Abby accompanies Gibbs to Stillwater when she learns of his father's passing, and helps him cope.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: Written for the "cold" challenge. This is a very angsty, very sad fic. A tissue warning has been issued. :)

Gibbs tapped his foot impatiently as the elevator ascended to the squad room. As he took a swig of his coffee, his cell phone vibrated in his pocket. He fumbled with it and flipped it open. 

"Yeah, Gibbs." 

_"Leroy... it's Dr. Grady, from Stillwater."_

Gibbs hit the elevator stop. The Doctor's tone did not sound pleasant in the least. 

"What's wrong, Doc?" 

_"I'm sorry to be the one to tell you this, especially over the phone... but it's your father... he's... he's gone, Leroy."_

He remained silent for a moment. 

_It's not true. No, Doc is lying. He isn't--_

"When?" 

_"Mrs. Nielson went to check on him this morning, as usual, and found him in his bed. I--I don't have all of the details yet, but it appears that he died in his sleep. I'm so sorry, son... this isn't -- I didn't want to have to tell you something like this."_

"It's not your fault, Doc. I can be in Stillwater before nightfall." 

_"We'll see you soon. Be careful, you hear me?"_

"I will. Thanks, Doc." 

He hung up the phone, turned on the elevator, and redirected it to the floor that held Vance's office. He got off without a word, and walked right past the secretary. She knew enough not to stop him, and didn't move as he passed. 

Vance was on the phone when Gibbs came into his office. Gibbs was uncharacteristically quiet while Vance finished his phone conversation. When he finally hung up the phone, Gibbs took a few steps forward. 

"I need to take some leave this week, Leon." 

Vance took out a blank leave form from his drawer and set it on the desk. 

"Is everything all right?" 

Gibbs didn't respond. He sat down and filled out the paperwork, and handed it back to Vance. 

Leon took the form and skimmed it. He grew concerned when he saw the "bereavement" box checked. 

"Jethro--" 

His friend nodded silently. 

"I'm so sorry for your loss," Vance said quietly. "Take all the time you need." 

"Thanks, Leon." 

Gibbs turned and left without a word. 

**~*~*~*~*~*~**

Tony strolled into the squad room, reasonably late for his shift. The first thing he noticed was Gibbs' empty desk. He turned to Tim, who was sitting at his desk, chatting with Abby over a case file. 

"Where's Gibbs?" 

Tim looked up. 

"He hasn't come in yet. Come to think of it, he's never late--" 

Tim stopped talking as Gibbs suddenly appeared in the bullpen, having just come down the balcony staircase. He quietly went to his desk and started to pack his things. 

"We got a case?" Tony asked, starting to pick up his gear. 

"No." 

Gibbs threw his pack over his shoulder and started for the elevator. He turned for a moment and faced his concerned team. 

"DiNozzo, you're team lead until I get back. Don't screw up." 

"You got it, Boss," Tony said, shocked. 

Abby exchanged looks with Tim, and got up to follow Gibbs. She caught him at the elevator. 

"What's wrong?" 

"It's okay, Abbs. I'm just taking some leave." 

The elevator dinged, and Gibbs stepped on. Abby followed. 

"Something's wrong, and you won't tell me." 

Gibbs didn't say anything in response. 

_Why did she have to follow me?_

Abby reached out and stopped the elevator. 

"You don't take leave unless something's wrong. Tell me what's wrong." 

"Abby--" 

"Tell me." 

He sighed and turned away from her. She put a gentle hand on his shoulder. 

"It's okay." 

He slowly turned around, and signed to her. 

"Oh no... oh Gibbs..." She tried to hug him, but he held up his hands. 

"I don't want a hug right now. I just need to get out of here." 

He pushed the button to start the elevator again. 

"At least let me drive you to Stillwater. You shouldn't be driving after--" 

"I don't need a chauffeur, Abby--" his voice was beginning to crack, and he tried to gulp it down. "I can do this alone." The elevator opened, and he stepped out. "Please, let me do this alone." 

She watched him walk away as the elevator doors closed. 

**~*~*~*~*~*~**

Vance looked up as the door to his office opened for the second time that morning. 

"Ms. Sciuto," he said with a smile. "How can I--" 

"I need to request leave, Director." 

"Effective?" 

"Immediately." 

He glared at her. 

"Why do you--" 

"I'm not going to let him go alone." 

Vance knew exactly who "he" was. He sat back in his chair. 

"Gibbs isn't the type of person to request company for a trip like this," he said gently. "Maybe you should let him do this alone." 

"Jackson is the only family he had left, Director. I can't let him go alone. He needs someone to be there for him." she sat down in one of the chairs in front of Vance's desk. "When my father died, I survived because I had my brother there with me. If I didn't have him, I don't know what I would have done. Gibbs doesn't have a support system in Stillwater. He needs someone, Director. He can't go through this alone." 

Vance regarded Abby's speech for a few moments. He remembered how he'd felt when he lost Jackie, and how grateful he was to have Gibbs and his other friends there during his time of grief. 

"Go, Abby. Sign the paperwork when you get back." 

"Thank you, Director!" she jumped up and raced back to the elevator. She had to get to Gibbs' house and catch him before he left for Stillwater. 

**~*~*~*~*~*~*~**

The black suit hung alone in the back of his closet. He hadn't worn it since Shannon and Kelly's funeral. He reached in and grabbed the suit, wrapped in a garment bag, and threw it on the bed. 

He moved around his bedroom, putting menial things in his go bag to bring with him. He came back to the suit, and sat down on the bed. 

It had finally hit him; he was packing to go back to Stillwater - to bury his father. 

He heard his front door opening downstairs, and got up, wiping a couple of stray tears from his eye. He quickly busied himself with packing as the footsteps ascended the stairs. He looked up as his bedroom door creaked open. 

"Why are you here?" 

"Did you think I was going to let you go alone?" 

Gibbs continued to pack. 

"I'll be fine, Abbs." 

"Why won't you look at me?" 

"I’m trying to pack." 

Abby leaned against the door frame, and crossed her arms. She watched him as he continued to fill his go bag. Finally, he zipped his duffel bag, and slung it over his shoulder. He picked up the suit, and turned around. Abby was still in the doorway. They stared each other down for a moment. 

"Are you packed, or do we need to stop at your apartment?" Gibbs asked as he brushed by her to leave the room. 

"My bag is in the car," she said, following him downstairs. 

"Let's go, then." 

Abby followed him outside. She snagged her duffel from her car, and they climbed into Gibbs' truck, and started for Stillwater. 

**TBC**


	2. Chapter 2

The drive to Stillwater was silent, for the most part. They drove into a blizzard that had formed near the Pennsylvania border, slowing them down considerably. Abby tried to turn on the radio, but Gibbs insisted that it be off, so he could concentrate on the road. She crossed her arms and pouted. Gibbs smiled when he saw her pout. It reminded him of a time when he'd been in her place. Long drives with Jackson were never easy, but Gibbs enjoyed every moment of them. 

The blizzard was getting to be too much to drive in, so Gibbs pulled off the highway and into a rest stop. They went into the small restaurant to get something to eat, and wait out the storm. 

After the waitress brought them coffee, Abby tried again to talk to Gibbs. 

"Have I told you I'm seeing someone new?" she asked, trying to veer his thoughts elsewhere. 

"That's nice, Abbs. Who is he?" Gibbs asked, sipping his coffee. 

"It's Bill Nelson." 

"From Balboa's team?" Gibbs asked, raising an eyebrow. "It's about time. That kid's been after you for a long time." 

Abby smiled and sipped her coffee. 

"He's a sweet guy." 

"He knows what'll happen if anything bad happens to you," Gibbs said with a smirk. 

Abby rolled her eyes and finished her coffee as the waitress brought their lunch. They chatted lightly about Abby and Bill as they ate club sandwiches and chips. By the time they'd finished lunch, the blizzard was nothing more than a flurry. Gibbs paid the bill, and they got back on the road. Abby was happy to have diverted his thoughts, just for a little while. 

**~*~*~*~*~*~**

They arrived in Stillwater by nightfall. Gibbs pulled up to the Doctor's house, and practically leapt from the truck. Abby hurried to catch up with him as he approached the front door. Dr. Grady opened it before Gibbs had a chance to knock. He held out a hand, and Gibbs shook it. 

"I'm glad you made it, Leroy." 

"Helluva storm coming this way," Gibbs replied. "I think we got here ahead of it." 

Dr. Grady looked over Gibbs' shoulder at Abby, who was standing on the porch. 

"Who is this lovely young woman?" Dr. Grady asked with a smile. 

Gibbs stepped aside, and Abby stepped forward. 

"This is Abby Sciuto, a good friend of mine. Abby, this is Dr. George Grady." 

"It's very nice to meet you, Dr. Grady," Abby said sweetly. Just then, she visibly shivered from the cold. 

"Both of you, come in and warm yourselves by the fire. It's freezing out." 

Gibbs nodded, and they followed Dr. Grady into the house. He helped her out of her coat, and they joined the Doctor in his living room. It was decorated in earth tones. A plush sofa was arranged near the fireplace. Gibbs and Abby took a seat, while Dr. Grady sat in his favorite armchair, across from them. 

"What happened to him, Doc?" Gibbs finally asked, after a period of silence. 

"I talked to the hospital about an hour ago," Dr. Grady said softly. "Your father had a heart attack. He died in his sleep." 

Gibbs nodded. 

"Can I get you some coffee, son? Abby?" 

Gibbs shook his head, as did Abby. 

"I think I'd better get over to the house. There's a lot to do." He stood and held out his hand. Dr. Grady shook it. 

"If you need anything, you call me. Okay?" 

"Yes sir, I will." 

Abby gave the elderly doctor a hug. 

"It was really nice to meet you, Dr. Grady." 

"It was a pleasure, my dear." he leaned in to whisper in her ear. "Take care of him." 

Abby nodded, and followed Gibbs to retrieve their jackets. Dr. Grady saw them out, and watched them climb into the pickup and drive away. 

**~*~*~*~*~*~*~**

He flipped the kitchen light on as they came into the house through the side door. The kitchen was dimly lit. There were a few dirty dishes in the sink, and a package of chicken lay on a plate on the counter. Jackson had probably taken it out for dinner the night before, and forgot about it. He crossed the kitchen, picked up the thawed chicken, and threw it in the trash. 

Abby closed the door behind her and hitched her bag over her shoulder. Gibbs was already starting to clean up the kitchen. She set her bag down and went over to him. He was trying to scrub a dish clean, and he was trying way too hard. She put a hand on his wrist. 

"Leave them. We can wash them together in the morning." 

Gibbs dropped the plate into the sink. It broke into three pieces. 

"He always leaves a mess. I always have to clean it up when I come to visit." 

"The mess can wait until tomorrow. Why don't you get some rest? We've been on the road all day." 

Gibbs nodded. They picked up their bags from the kitchen floor, and Gibbs showed her to a bedroom. She smiled at the football posters adorning the walls, and what looked like several varsity flags proudly displayed on the wall behind an old desk. 

"You can sleep in here," Gibbs said tiredly. 

She turned and kissed him on the cheek. 

"Thank you." 

Gibbs smiled, and left her to get ready for bed. He grabbed an extra pillow from the linen closet and went downstairs. He arranged some blankets on the couch for himself, kicked off his shoes and coat, and collapsed onto the couch. His tears stained the pillowcase as he drifted off to sleep. 

**TBC...**


	3. Chapter 3

Abby woke up early the next morning. She dressed and went downstairs. The first place she checked was the couch, and found it empty. She made her way into the kitchen, to start breakfast. As she took the eggs and bread from the refrigerator, she heard a noise outside. She went over to the kitchen window and looked out. She could see Gibbs in the backyard, splitting wood. She watched him for a moment, and decided to leave him be. She made scrambled eggs and toast, and set down a plate on the table for him. She put on her coat and shoes and went outside to get him. 

"Breakfast is ready," she said, walking across the snow toward him. 

Gibbs swung the ax down and a large log split in two, falling from the pedestal. 

"I'm not hungry." 

"I don't care. You're going to eat." 

He set down the ax. 

"Abbs, I don't need you to baby me. I can take care of myself." 

"Is that why you're out here with no coat in the middle of winter?" 

Gibbs bent down to retrieve the pieces of wood, and turned away to carry them to his pickup. Abby followed him. 

"Don't you dare ignore me!" 

He threw the wood into the bed of his pickup, among the heaping pile of wood that was already there, and clapped the dust from his hands. A shiver ran through him, and he visibly trembled. 

"Get your butt inside, before you freeze to death. And don't even think about telling me no." 

Gibbs stood silently, staring Abby down. He suddenly remembered standing out here with his mother years ago, listening to her lecture him about the very same thing. He hadn't won that argument, either. 

Silently, he turned and stalked toward the house. 

Abby jogged to catch up with him, and shut the door behind them as they took in the warmth of the kitchen. 

"I made eggs and toast," Abby said flatly. 

Gibbs nodded and sat at the table, and started to eat the breakfast Abby had prepared. She poured him a cup of coffee and set it on the table for him. He shakily picked it up and took a long sip. Abby dished out her own breakfast, and took it and a cup of coffee to the table to join him. 

Breakfast was awkward. Gibbs knew that Abby was angry with him. He figured letting things be for the moment was the best course of action. He enjoyed the breakfast she'd made, and suddenly felt terrible for being short with her. 

"I'm sorry, Abbs," he said quietly. "I've been an ass." 

Abby did not respond. 

Gibbs finished his breakfast, deposited his dishes in the sink, and went back outside. He climbed into his truck and slammed the door closed. He started the truck, then turned it off again. He could feel himself shaking. 

_Come on... get a hold of yourself._

He shook off the emotions and picked up the list on his passenger seat. He had wood to deliver, and he had to get going. He put the truck in gear and pulled out of the driveway, unaware that Abby was watching him through the kitchen window. 

**~*~*~*~*~*~*~**

His first stop, as fate would have it, was Mrs. Ida Neilson. He pulled into the driveway and turned off the truck. He sat there, staring at the front door. He was about to deliver wood to the woman who found his father. 

_This isn't going to be awkward at all..._

A rapping on his window brought him out of his daze. He rolled it down. 

"You gonna sit here all day or bring that wood inside?" 

"I'm sorry, Mr. Neilson," Gibbs said, getting out of the truck. He consulted the list. "The list says I owe you two cords of wood this week. Is that right?" 

"That's what your Daddy always brought us," he said, turning toward the garage and pointed with his cane. "Put it on the rack next to the kitchen door." 

"Yes, sir." 

He pulled down the tailgate and started to unload the wood. He hadn't bundled it, but he'd helped his father deliver firewood long enough that he knew how much to leave. As he went in and out of the garage, depositing wood on the stand, he didn't notice the door open, and Mrs. Neilson come out onto the stoop inside the garage. She had her shawl wrapped around her. 

Gibbs dropped six pieces of wood on his feet when he saw her standing there. 

"I'm sorry," he said quickly, bending to pick them up. 

"Leave them. Come inside, Leroy. I've got coffee ready for you." 

He set the wood in his hands on the rack and followed Mrs. Neilson inside. 

"Take off your shoes," she said with her back turned to him. He smiled and took off his boots. Mrs. Neilson could always see through him. She'd known him since he was a kid, and was like a second mother to him. 

She turned around and held out a steaming cup of coffee. He reached out and took it gratefully. 

"Thanks." 

"Come, sit," she said, taking her usual seat at the table. He sat down to her left. "How are you doing, sweetheart?" 

"I'm fine." 

"Why are you out delivering wood, then?" 

He looked down at his coffee. 

"I needed some time." 

_Thwack!_

"Ow!" he said, startled, his hand going instinctively to the back of his head. 

"I know what you're doing, Leroy. You acted the same way when your Mother passed. You can't avoid everything bad that happens. Your father was a beloved man, and I know how hard losing him is for you. I had to go through it when my mother and father passed away." 

He knew she was right. Mrs. Neilson was always right. 

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Neilson." 

"I'm not the one you should be apologizing to, Leroy," she said as she stood and took his mug to refill it. 

"How did you know about--" 

"Mrs. Kravtiz still lives next door to your Father, you know." 

_Of course... Mrs. Kravitz probably saw us arguing in the driveway._

"That woman is a busybody," Gibbs replied. 

"Leroy..." 

"All right, all right. I'll talk to Abby." 

She kissed him on the cheek and handed him a travel mug filled with coffee. 

"Don't be a stranger, Dear." 

"I won't." He took the mug, and kissed her cheek in return. 

"Be careful out there! The roads are terrible!" 

"I will. Thank you." he smiled and went back outside. He finished loading the Neilsons' wood, and climbed into the truck to head to his next stop. 

**~*~*~*~*~*~*~**

Abby sat alone at the kitchen table, looking down at her cell phone. He'd been gone for almost two hours, and hadn't called her once. To say she was worried was an understatement. 

As if she'd willed it to happen, the kitchen door opened, and Gibbs came in from the snow. He saw her at the table and stopped short, not sure what to say. Abby got up and met him in the middle of the kitchen. She stared him down for a moment, silently fuming. Then, out of nowhere, she slapped his face. 

His head snapped to the side when she slapped him. He blinked slowly as he returned his gaze to her. 

"I deserve that." 

"Where have you been? You couldn't call me? Or even send me a text message?" 

"I'm sorry, Abbs. I should have called." 

"Damn right. You could have died out there and I wouldn't have known!" 

Tears started to slip down her cheeks. Gibbs wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in for a hug. 

"Thank you for being here, Abby. I don't know what I'd do without you." 

"You'd be lost," she said with a weak laugh. 

He hugged her tighter. 

"Thank you." 

She stepped back and looked into his eyes. They were sparkling, but still full of hurt and sorrow. 

"Are you ready to go to the hospital?" 

Gibbs nodded. Abby took his hand, and they left the house together. It was time to face the reason for their trip to Stillwater.

**TBC...**


	4. Chapter 4

"Thank you for coming, Mr. Gibbs," said the Coroner as he led them down a darkened hall, toward the morgue. "I assure you this will be quick." 

"Thanks." 

They stopped in front of a large glass window. 

"Please, wait here." 

The Coroner went into the room and approached a table, similar to one of Ducky's autopsy tables, and looked up at the window as he gently laid his hand on the sheet covering the body. He nodded toward the window, and Gibbs nodded back. Slowly, the Coroner pulled the sheet back, exposing the face of Jackson Gibbs. 

He squeezed Abby's hand as he willed the tears not to fall again. Slowly, he nodded at the Coroner, who nodded back, and covered Jackson's face again. 

Gibbs let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. The hardest part was over. 

The Coroner came back out. 

"A lot of people break down during this part. You are doing very well, Mr. Gibbs." 

"It's Jethro," he said, shaking the Coroner's hand. "Give me 48 hours to make arrangements." 

"No problem, Jethro. I'm so sorry for your loss." 

Gibbs nodded and walked away. Abby said goodbye to the Coroner and hurried after him. 

**~*~*~*~*~*~**

As soon as the truck was in park, Gibbs got out and headed into the house. Abby stayed behind in the truck for a moment. She sat back and fingered the crucifix around her neck. She briefly closed her eyes. 

"Lord, please watch over him. He really needs you right now." 

\---------- 

Gibbs slammed the door and stalked across the kitchen and into the study, which was situated in a small room off the living room. He closed the door behind him, and locked it. 

The study was small and modest. There was an oak desk, with an open laptop computer on it. There was a small bookshelf next to the desk, and a liquor cabinet in the far corner. Jackson had kept that cabinet locked until Gibbs left Stillwater. Gibbs tried it, and found it unlocked. 

He reached in and found a bottle of bourbon, and a glass. He brought them to the desk and sat down. As he dialed the number for the local funeral home, he poured himself a glass. He cringed when the secretary answered. It was the same woman that had worked there when his mother passed away, and she had the same nasal voice. 

_"Gable & Jones, how may I direct your call?"_

"Is Mr. Gable available?" 

_"One moment, please."_

The line was silent for a moment. 

_"This is Morrie Gable."_

"Hey Morrie, it's Jethro Gibbs." 

_"I've been waiting for your call. How are you holding up?"_

"I could be doing better," he said, taking a gulp of bourbon. 

_"Do you have something in mind already, Jethro?"_

"Dad had a will. He wanted his funeral to be simple, and he wants to be buried next to my Mother." 

_"I remember helping him with the burial plot. He bought the space next to Anne."_

"I remember." 

There was an awkward pause. Gibbs took another gulp of bourbon. 

"I trust you, Morrie. I've known ya for 50 years. Arrange something nice. I'll bring down a nice suit for him, and we can work out the details." 

_"He'll be in good hands, Jethro. I'll call you in a few days, and we'll have lunch and finalize everything, okay?"_

"Sounds like a plan. Thanks, Morrie." 

_"Take it easy, Jethro."_

Gibbs hung up and sat back in the plush chair, bourbon in hand. He remembered sneaking into the study as a teenager, to pilfer some of the liquor. Of course, the cabinet was always locked, but that never stopped him. He'd get in trouble for it down the line, but it was always worth it. 

He closed his eyes as more memories floated through his mind, and soon drifted into a much needed sleep. 

**~*~*~*~*~*~**

"Gibbs! I know you're in there! Open the door!" 

He jumped out of the chair when she started pounding on the door. He quickly put the bourbon and glass back into the liquor cabinet and shut it. When he was sure he'd cleaned it up, he opened the study door. 

"You've been in here for three hours! Are you all right?" 

"I fell asleep." 

"Oh." 

"It's okay, Abbs. I shouldn't have locked the door," he said, ushering her out of the study and shutting it up behind them. 

"No, I should have left you to your thoughts." 

He hugged her. She could smell the bourbon on his breath.

“Have you been drinking?”

“Abbs,” 

“I don’t want to see you drink a hole in your stomach. Please promise me you won’t use alcohol as a crutch.”

“I can’t promise that, Abby.” 

“You always retreat to a bottle of bourbon when something bad happens. Please, for me, don’t do it this time.”

Gibbs looked into her eyes. He always had a problem telling her no when she gave him her puppy dog eyes.   
“I’ll try. That’s all I can promise.”

“I’ll take it. I’m sorry for yelling.” 

Gibbs hugged her.

"It's okay, you were worried." 

"How about lunch?" 

"Sounds good, Abbs." 

They went to the kitchen together, where Abby had lunch prepared. She set a plate in front of him with a roast beef sandwich and some fruit. 

"This looks great," he said, taking a big bite of the sandwich. 

They chatted lightly over lunch, and Gibbs volunteered to wash the dishes. When everything was cleaned up, they retreated to the living room to watch a bit of TV. They found a movie, and within 15 minutes, they were both asleep. 

**TBC...**


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Readers: Please let me know if I've gone off track with this chapter. I'm willing to do a rewrite if necessary. This fic is being posted for a writing challenge on another site, and I want to make sure it's not going too off track from the original plot. Any input would be helpful!

Gibbs was gone when Abby woke up. The credits were rolling on the movie they'd started watching. She turned off the TV and got up to go and look for Gibbs. 

The first thing she did was check outside. His pickup was still in the driveway. She went back inside and searched the house. 

"Gibbs?" she called as she made her way upstairs. She continued up to the second floor when she didn't hear him call back to her. 

He wasn't in his bedroom, or the spare bedroom. She stopped at the end of the hall and peered at the door to Jackson's bedroom. It was open a crack. Her heart pounding, she pushed it open. The room was spacious, and held a king-sized bed and two dressers. On the left side of the room, there were French doors that lead out to a tiny balcony. One of the door was open, and swinging in the breeze. 

Abby went to the doors, and gasped when she saw Gibbs, huddled in the corner of the balcony. A bottle of bourbon was clutched in his right hand, and the snow was coming down hard on top of him. 

"What the hell are you doing?" she shrieked as she ran to his side. He was wearing a spring coat, and he was shivering. "You have to get inside before you freeze to death," She said, taking his arm. He let her help him up, and she lead him inside and shut the doors. She led him out of Jackson's bedroom and down the hall to the guest room. 

"Your clothes are soaked. You have to take them off or you'll get frostbite." 

Gibbs fumbled out of his pants and shirt. Abby went into Gibbs' room and opened up one of the dresser drawers, hoping to God he'd left some clean clothes behind. She thankfully found a pair of track pants and an old T-shirt, and brought them into the spare bedroom. She turned around as he discarded his wet boxer briefs and slipped into the dry clothes. 

When he was dressed, she forced him to sit on the bed while she examined him. When she finally got him to sit down, Gibbs pulled her down on top of him and crashed his lips into hers. She immediately pushed him away and stood up. 

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" 

He got off the bed and stumbled toward her, arms out, as if to pull her close to him. She backed up to avoid him. 

"Stop! What the hell are you doing?" She shouted as Gibbs got a hold of her and tried to kiss her again. Instinct took over, and Abby brought her foot up between his legs. He groaned and fell to his knees in obvious pain. 

Abby ran from the room and down the stairs. As she rounded the corner into the kitchen, she heard someone coming in through the kitchen door. She spotted a baseball bat, leaning in the corner by the TV, and grabbed it. 

_Thank you, Jackson!_

She took a swing at the intruder as he rounded the corner, and missed his head by inches.

"Whoa! It's all right! I'm Dr. Tom Grady." 

"Dr. Grady is over eighty years old," Abby said defensively, ready to swing the bat again. "Tell me the truth or I'll swing again - and I won't miss!" 

"I'm his son," Tom said. "We run the practice together here in town. He sent me to check on Jethro." Tom took out his wallet and showed her his driver's license, to prove that he was who he claimed to be. 

Abby set down the bat. 

"I'm sorry. I'm a little shaky, after what just happened upstairs." 

"Is Jethro all right? What happened?" 

"He's in the spare bedroom," Abby said. "I found him drunk out on the balcony in his father's room. After I got him to put on dry clothes, he tried to kiss me, and I had to, well, incapacitate him to get him to stop." 

Tom winced, knowing exactly what she meant. 

"How long was he outside?" 

"I'm not sure." 

Tom rushed upstairs, Abby on his heels. Gibbs was still on the floor when they got to the spare bedroom. He was shaking like a leaf, and sobbing into his hands. Tom dropped to his knees next to him. 

"Jethro, it's Tom Grady. Do you remember me?" 

Gibbs nodded into his hands. 

"Let's get you off the floor and into bed. You need to sleep off that bourbon." 

"Leave me alone, Tommy," Gibbs grated out. "I can still kick your ass." 

"But you won't," Tom said, smirking. "The last time you tried to beat me up in this house, I gave you a run for your money before your Father got home and pulled us apart." 

"My Father isn't here! I don't have anyone anymore!" Gibbs lunged at Tom, intending to fight him. He underestimated his old friend, and Tom overpowered him, yanking an arm behind his back. 

"I can still kick your ass. You never could beat me." Tom heaved Gibbs to his feet. "Come on, you need to sleep off the bourbon, Jethro." 

Gibbs struggled as Kyle got him over to the bed. Tom wrestled him under the covers, and miraculously, as soon as his body hit the bed, Gibbs fell into a drunken slumber. Tom turned to Abby. 

"Let him sleep. He didn't finish the whole bottle, from the looks of things, so he should be all right by dinner time." 

"Thank you," Abby said, fighting the urge to hug him. "I'm Abby, by the way," she said, sticking out a hand for him to shake. 

"Nice to meet you, Abby." Kyle packed up his bag, which had spilled when he dropped it to tackle Gibbs. "Check on him in an hour. He's looking a little pale. I'll come by tonight to check on him." He took a business card from his bag and handed it to her. "If he gets worse before tonight, call me." 

"Will do." 

He looked over at his sleeping friend. 

"Go easy on him when he wakes up. He really doesn't have anyone left in his life." 

"He's got friends that care about him," Abby said. "He just doesn't realize how much." 

Tom gently squeezed her shoulder in a comforting gesture. 

"He'll be fine." 

Abby nodded and they left Gibbs alone to sleep. 

\------------- 

Gibbs woke up feeling chilly. He pulled the blanket over his shoulders as he felt a gentle hand on his forehead. 

"Abby?" he mumbled. 

"Hi," she said gently. "How do you feel?" 

"Headache... I'm cold... body hurts... chest hurts..." 

"You have a fever," she said. "I called Dr. Grady. He's on his way over." 

"Shouldn't done that." 

"You shouldn't have gotten drunk on the balcony in the middle of a snowstorm," she countered. "You wouldn't be lying here otherwise." 

Gibbs screwed his eyes shut as headache pain ripped through his head. When he opened his eyes again, Abby was still there, holding his hand. 

"Thanks, Abbs." 

"Anytime." She said, smiling. 

Gibbs' phone vibrated on the night stand, and Abby picked it up. 

"Hello?" 

_"I'm calling for Jethro Gibbs? Is this the right number?_

"Yes, I'm Abby Sciuto, a friend. Jethro is not well, and is resting. Can I take a message?" 

_"It's Morrie Gable, from the funeral home. I need to finalize a few things before the funeral."_

"I can help," she said, glaring at Gibbs, who had his eyes shut and did not see her. "Let me write down what you need to know, and I can work on it with him while he recovers." 

_"That sounds like a good idea, Ms. Sciuto. Here's what I need."_

Abby wrote down everything Mr. Gable told her, and bade him goodbye, promising to pass on well wishes to Gibbs. 

"That was the funeral director," she said, setting the phone down on the night stand. 

"What does he need?" Gibbs managed to get out between painful, shallow breaths. 

"We can talk about that in a little bit," she said, noticing his pain. "Just stop talking for now and rest." 

Footsteps alerted Abby to Dr. Grady's arrival. Tom came into the room moments later, and immediately went to Gibbs' bedside. 

"What's been happening?" he asked Abby. 

"I took his temperature. It was 103 an hour ago. He's been incoherent, and he says his chest hurts." 

Tom examined his old friend for a few minutes, with Abby watching nervously, and Gibbs grumbling over the doctor's ministrations. 

"You've got yourself a nasty case of the flu," he said when he was finished.

"Damn it all," he grumbled. 

"You brought this on yourself, Jethro. Complaining isn't going to win you any favors," Tom said. He reached into his bag and took out a bottle of pills. "This is an anti-viral. Take it twice a day. I'm also going to have you take some ibuprofen right away, to help the fever." 

"The funeral is in two days," Gibbs said, propping himself into a sitting positions, his pillows supporting his back. 

"Take your pills and you can still go, but take it easy." 

"You're a bastard, Tommy," Gibbs said, right before he started a coughing fit. 

"I believe that's what the second "B" in your name stands for," he said with a grin. "Get some rest, and drink plenty of fluids. I'll come over tomorrow to check on you." 

Tommy looked at Abby. 

"Make sure he takes that medicine." 

"Oh, I will. Trust me." 

"Somehow, I already do." 

Tom left, and Abby turned to Gibbs. 

"You're taking one of these right now, with some Advil." 

"Awe come on, Abby." 

"You don't get to complain, Gibbs. You're going to take the medicine." 

Gibbs knew he wasn't going to come out of this conversation on the winning end. 

"Give me the damn pills." 

Abby ran across the hall to the bathroom to get him some water, and stood at his bedside while he took an anti-viral and two ibuprofen. She set the pills on the far dresser, out of his reach. 

"Stay here and rest. I'll bring dinner up and we'll eat together." 

She smiled, and he instantly felt better, and smiled back. 

"Sounds good, Abbs." 

\--------- 

Abby found a can of hearty chicken soup in the pantry and warmed it on the stove for them. While it warmed, she dug out an old TV tray and placed two bowls on it, along with the needed silverware. From the refrigerator she took orange juice, and poured him a tall glass. 

When the soup was done, she portioned it into the bowls, and set a package of crackers on the tray for them to share. She carefully picked up the tray and carried it upstairs. 

"I found some chicken soup," she announced as she came into the room. Gibbs set down the book he'd found in the night stand, and Abby set the tray in his lap. She took her bowl of soup and sat in the armchair by the bed. He grumbled as he ate his soup. Abby sighed. It was going to be a long few weeks caring for a sick Gibbs. 

Abby managed to get the television in Gibbs' childhood room into the spare bedroom, and they found a movie marathon on one of Gibbs' favorite channels. Neither one of them mentioned his behavior earlier that afternoon. 

Gibbs was asleep by the middle of the second movie. Abby turned off the TV and cleaned up the dishes from dinner. After ensuring he had a full glass of water near his bed, she went across the hall to her room, and collapsed into bed.

**TBC...**


	6. Chapter 6

The smell of bacon assailed Abby's senses when she woke up the next morning. She made her way down to the kitchen, and found Gibbs standing at the stove, cooking breakfast. They exchanged an awkward glance as Abby crossed the room and poured herself a cup of coffee. She'd been downing it like crazy to make up for the lack of caf!pow in the past week. She sat down at the table, and Gibbs brought her a plate with pancakes and bacon. She nodded her thanks, and he sat down with his own coffee and breakfast. 

They ate silently, neither one of them wanting to be the one to start a conversation. Gibbs kept stealing glances at Abby. He remembered everything that happened the day before, in vivid detail, and he wasn't proud of himself. He hadn't fallen this far since he'd lost Shannon, and it wasn't a place that he wanted to be again. 

He resolved to bite the bullet and talk to Abby. It was the only way to resolve the tension. As he opened his mouth to talk, she got up and walked over to the sink. He paused, and turned to face her. 

"I remember everything I did yesterday." 

"Good. You should remember. It serves you right." 

"Abby, I'm so, so sorry for what I did to you. I have no excuse for that kind of behavior, especially toward you." 

"You promised me that you wouldn't let yourself fall back on bourbon, and you turned around and broke that promise. You couldn't even do it for 24 hours. I'm really hurt by what you did, and an apology isn't going to make it better this time." 

Abby dropped her dishes in the sink with a clatter, and left him alone in the kitchen. He didn’t follow after her. 

Gibbs cleaned up the breakfast dishes and retreated to the study to call Morrie. He chatted with his old friend, and confirmed the funeral arrangements. With everything scheduled, Morrie invited Gibbs to have lunch with him, and Gibbs accepted. He hung up with Morrie, and went to take a shower and get ready. 

Abby didn't speak to him all morning. She'd retreated upstairs to her room, and hadn't come out. He dressed in the spare bedroom, and took his meds before he left. 

**~*~*~*~*~*~**

Morrie met him at the small diner in town, not far from Jackson's store. He remembered hanging out there with his friends, when he was a kid. He smiled when he found Morrie in the same booth they used to frequent years ago. 

"How are you, Jethro?" Morrie asked as they shook hands. 

"I could be better." 

Gibbs slid into the other side of the booth, and the waitress came over. He ordered coffee. 

"You look sick," Morrie said. 

"Got the flu." 

"Just what you need right now, huh." 

Gibbs didn't respond. The coffee came, and the waitress took their lunch orders. When she was gone, Morrie turned back to his friend. 

"There's something else bothering you besides all this, isn't there." 

Gibbs looked down at the table, and back at his friend. 

"I was just as messed up when my old man passed away," Morrie said gently. "He was all I had after my Mother died. You and me, we're alike. Your father raised you like mine raised me. They were all we had. It's okay to be messed up over it." 

"I brought a friend with me." 

"The woman I talked to yesterday? She seems sweet." 

"She is. And I've hurt her. She came here to help, and I threw it back in her face." He looked down at his coffee. "I screwed up, Morrie." 

"When my father died, I went off the rails. I started drowning myself in alcohol, and I locked myself in my study for hours, holding that bottle. I hit rock bottom before my wife got through to me. She yanked the bottle out of my hand and dumped it down the sink, and told me that my father would be ashamed of the way I've been behaving. The scary part is that she was right. My father would never have wanted me to grieve for him that way, and I'll take bets that your father wouldn't like the way you've been acting, either." 

Gibbs looked up to meet his friend's eyes. 

"He would hate it, and he'd probably slap me on the back of the head and tell me what a damn fool I've been." 

"You should talk to your friend." 

"You always did know how to knock sense into me, Morrie," Gibbs said with a smile. 

"What are friends for?" 

The food came, and they ate and talked about the goings-on in Stillwater since Gibbs had last visited. When the meal was over, they left the check on the table and parted ways. 

**~*~*~*~*~**

Abby was sitting at the kitchen table having tea when Gibbs got back to the house. He dropped his keys on the kitchen counter and sat down in the chair next to hers. 

"Can we talk?" 

Abby remained silent. 

"My father would be furious at the way I've been treating you, Abby. He'd also slap me upside the head for grieving for him like I have been. You came with me to be here for me, and I threw it back in your face, and I broke a promise to you. I haven't been a very good friend to you, and I'm sorry." 

Abby took a sip of her tea. 

"I've been thinking, too. I'm not mad anymore, but I'm still hurt that you broke your promise to me, among other things." 

He reached out and took her hand in his. 

"I need you to help me through the funeral, Abbs." 

Abby looked into his eyes for a moment, then wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug. 

"I'll always be here for you." 

TBC...


	7. Chapter 7

The funeral was small and quiet, just as Jackson wanted it. Gibbs stood beside the casket, as Jackson's friends paid their respects, and offered him condolences. He plastered his best fake smile and accepted them. Some folks he remembered, some he'd never met, but he smiled all the same. 

After the first hour, Gibbs made his way to the back of the room. He couldn't bring himself to stand up there anymore. He sat down on a sofa in the corner, and gazed around the room. He hadn't realized just how well known Jackson was in the Stillwater community. 

He didn't realize anyone was sitting next to him, until he heard her voice. 

"How are you, Dear?" 

Gibbs turned his head and looked at Mrs. Nielson. 

"I'm all right, Mrs. Nielson." 

She hugged him tightly. He closed his eyes as she hugged him, and took in her embrace. 

"It's a lovely funeral." 

"It's just how Jackson would have wanted it," Gibbs replied. 

"I'm going to miss that man something fierce," she said, snagging a tissue from the box on the end table. "Your Father was always there for me, especially when my husband couldn't be there. He was my dearest friend." 

Gibbs took her hand in his and gave it a light squeeze, to comfort her. 

"I was angry with him for so many years... I--I wish I could go back..." 

"What's done is done, Leroy. The important thing is that you did mend things with him, and that he knew that you loved him." 

Gibbs nodded, trying hard to hold back his emotions. He sensed movement in front of him, and looked up in time to see Abby walking toward them. He took her hand when she stopped in front of him. 

"Abby this is Ida Nielson, a good friend of Jackson's. Mrs. Nielsen, this is Abby." 

Mrs. Nielson shook Abby's hand, and eyed Gibbs suspiciously. 

"We're just friends," Gibbs added quickly. 

Mrs. Nielson chuckled. 

"I wouldn't have assumed anything different, Leroy." 

"Right." 

She cuffed him lightly on the back of the head. 

"So you're the one that taught him that headslap," Abby said with a smile. 

"Leroy!" Mrs. Nielson gasped, glaring at him. 

"Thanks, Abbs," he said, his cheeks reddening a bit in embarrassment. 

"I want to invite you both to my home after the funeral for coffee and dessert, if you are up to it, Leroy." 

"That would be great, Mrs. Nielson." Gibbs kissed her on the cheek and stood up. "I'd better walk around some more." 

"All right, Dear." 

Abby took Gibbs' vacated seat as he made his way around the room. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 

Gibbs pulled his truck into Mrs. Nielson's driveway around seven that evening. He and Abby climbed out and went up to the front door. Mrs. Nielsen opened up the door before he could put his finger on the doorbell. 

"Come in." 

They stepped inside and removed coats and shoes, and Mrs. Nielson beckoned them to sit on the couch. She disappeared into the kitchen and returned holding a tray with three cups of coffee, and a plate of cookies. She set it down on the coffee table, and retreated to her recliner with her coffee. 

Abby nibbled on cookies as Mrs. Nielson chatted about the goings-on in Stillwater. Gibbs, however, sat in silence, shakily gripping his coffee cup. He had yet to take a sip from it. She also noticed that he was still wearing his suit from the funeral, but with his tie removed and the top button of his shirt undone. 

After an hour, the pot of coffee was empty. Abby volunteered to go and make more, and took the empty pot into the kitchen. Gibbs sat idly, still gripping the same full cup he had an hour ago. 

"Leroy." 

Gibbs looked up at her, as if he were coming out of a trance. 

"Huh?" 

"You haven't said a word, and you haven't taken a sip of that coffee." 

He diverted his gaze to his coffee. Mrs. Nielson got up and sat next to him on the couch. She reached out and put a finger his chin, and lifted his head so he was forced to look at her. 

"I know you're trying to be stoic. You can let it out, Baby. No one here will think anything less of you for grieving." 

"I can't--I don't--" 

All coherent thought left Gibbs at that moment as tears freely rolled down his cheeks. He could feel the pain rising in his chest. This time, he let it out. Mrs. Nielson pulled him into a hug as he cried openly for the first time since his Father died. 

**END (Epilogue forthcoming)**


End file.
